


Piano

by SJ_Sixx



Series: Chronic Illness Readers [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky plays the piano, Chronic Illness, Fluff, Gen, Parkinsons, Piano, Roses Theme - Titanic, alll daa fluff, just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SJ_Sixx/pseuds/SJ_Sixx
Summary: You had always loved the Piano, but your condition robbed you of that love. But it may be possible to bring it back





	Piano

**Author's Note:**

> I always had this weird ass head canon that Barnes can play the piano - he learned it in school and just never stopped practicing. 
> 
> Anyway, this one was wrote as I know exactly how a condition can rob you of your passions, and I wanted to put that feeling in words, so here we are

I had always loved to play the piano... ever since I was a little kid, it had been my passion. My parents had encouraged it, and I had spent hours upon hours practicing, dreaming, of one day being able to play professionally. Oh how I had dreamed, of the gilded halls, the ruby red curtains, the notes echoing around me as the audience listen, enthralled, enchanted, the dances dancing in perfect harmony to the keys I played, to hear the audience cheer, applaud.

But that dream had died, when I was diagnosed with your condition. Parkinson's. At age 22, I had to watch as my dream smashed to the ground. My passion, my talent, it all faded away.

I eventually got a job, working at Stark Industries. The pay was good, and the job didn't require so much effort it affected my condition. I made friends with the Avengers, and eventually, Stark let me stay in one of the rooms, low rent and all.

The only downside was his music room.

Not that it was horrible - but it was beautiful and reminded me of the dreams I had cradled once before. Painted a deep red to match Theatre Curtains, with a honey wooden floorboard, it housed a collection of guitars, drums, violins, even a Ukulele (go figure), but right in the middle, was the gorgeous, ebony black, grand piano. Every day I paused for five minutes, looking longingly at it, the notes echoing in the back of my mind, the roars of the crowd I would never hear, the applause ringing in my ears. It brought a melancholy smile to my face, and bitter sweet tears to my eyes.

Never had I heard it played. Until one day, when the new guest arrived.

I was passing the room, when I heard it faintly, loud enough for it to stop me in my tracks. I paused, before backtracking and peeping in.

Inside, was a man, sitting on the stool. His floppy brown hair covered part of his face as it hung down, but I could still see him - his blue eyes, focused intensely. His lips, slightly parted. His hands were broad and strong, yet played with such delicacy. The tune he was playing (Rose's Theme, from the Titanic, if you were correct) washed over me, the notes filling me with that hope I had known so long ago.

Suddenly, he stopped. He had noticed me, and was staring straight at me.

"Do you play?" He asked.

The words brought me crashing back to reality, and I gave a sad smile.

"I used to. Almost, professionally. Until, I was diagnosed with Parkinson's. Now, my hands tremble too much, and are too stiff," I said, holding them up for him to see. I wore wrist splints, but even they couldn't stop the shaking entirely.

He tilted his head slightly, like a puppy, before coming over, taking my hands in his own. I noticed at that point the metal arm.

"C'mon," he lead me back to the stool, and sat down, pulling me so I sat between his legs.

He rested one hand on the piano, and placed my own on top. Getting the idea, I copied on the other hand.

"Now. One, two, three, four," on 'four', he began to play that tune once again, my fingers following his own as they rested on top, able to do so with their perch to guide them once again.

And I felt the rush come back, the dreams that were locked away burst from their cages, the music flowing through me like it had never stopped. The notes danced through my veins once more, and the melody ran through my blood, as it had before, all those years ago, when I was filled with hope.

Tears fell down my face as I completed the song, and I brought my shaking hands - was it from the Parkinson's though or the rush this time? - to my mouth, trying to hold back the choked sobs.

"You ok, doll?" He asked, concerned.

"It's been so long. I forgot what it was like, how much I loved it." I whispered.

His hands immediately left the piano keys, wrapping round me to bring me into a hug as I cried tears of joy and happiness, the man holding me tight, whispering comfort to me.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, calming down at last, "I'm not normally like this."

"It's ok. I got you." He murmured.

And as I sat there, face squished against this mans chest, I realised.

"I don't even know your name," I said into his shirt.

"Bucky. You?"

"[Name]."

"Pretty name. Prettier piano skills. Even prettier face."


End file.
